


never ghost your (?)

by wongweed



Series: finder! au [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Complicated Emotions, Idk what the fuck to tag, M/M, Not Soft, fuck mark Lee, imbalanced power dynamics, pmsl, qtah bitch, unbeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wongweed/pseuds/wongweed
Summary: Some lessons are better learned the hard way. Mark swears, he will never ghost Lucas ever again.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Series: finder! au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691905
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	never ghost your (?)

**Author's Note:**

> set in the time period in their earlier days where Mark and Lucas just started having whatever kind of thing they had begun. Also, the incident in which Mark learned that his pride meant shit and that Lucas had power, but still limited. 
> 
> Does that even make sense lmao

The music was loud, bass boosted, and thrummed underneath one's skin with each beat. It overshadowed the loud chattering, the hushed whispers, the seductive laughter, the vulgar desires, and the pathetic cries of losers. Truly the place lived up to its name: silent sin aka s.s. — the exclusive members-only luxurious club designed for the haves.

Or, a circus designed for the riches where they also play the part of the clown according to Mark Lee's honest opinions.

Why Mark Lee was here in this godforsaken place! Work of course. A month prior he had a tip on a prominent figure making their appearance in the club S.S. for an illegal deal of property. It'd be in cash, no less.

And there you had it. Your very own veteran journalist Mark Lee serving drinks and cosying up to strangers, cladded in a black booty short made of satin over fishnets, a matching skimpy vest suit, white cuffs with silver cufflinks with white collar with black buttons. It wasn't even that humiliating if not for the pair of bunny headbands on top of his head —made of soft fur and quite fluffy, and they bounced with each step he took— and the bunny tail on his ass. Club's outfit. Mandatory.

Mark wanted to scream and run out of the godforsaken place. _It's for the job of Mark Lee. Be professional. Stop being a pussy._

"Oh, it's good to see you, Mr Wong," Mark heard a gruff voice in the distance. "I thought you wouldn't be able to make it tonight. I have prepared so many good things for you. I'm so glad you could come. I—"

"Stop blathering, Kim. One more word, and you surely will lose your tongue." It was a cold, clear, frightening voice Mark was familiar with.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Blood drained from his skin, chills prickling at him. He appeared paler than he already was, sweat trickling down his spine. It made him uncomfortable. The itch. He wanted to escape to the staff room, strip down, and scratch himself all over. He wasn't supposed to be here.

_Fuck the job. I'm getting outta here._

There were tears pooling the edge of his eyes, his vision blurry, and heart-pounding faster and harder inside his ribs. It was fear. The fear of prey about to be caught. He shivered, back arching out. And there came the piercing gaze as if a bullet would be drilling in his spine instead. He could hear the cracking noises of his bones.Not his per se, but the ones he watched Lucas break mercilessly in his basement.

Mark also hated how much he got turned on when Yukhei was cold and beautiful —like those perfect alabaster sculptures of Gods and Goddesses: apathetic and indifferent to human misery and plight.

But he hated feeling those things. Again and again, bottom line.

Mark made a quick run for the staff room. _Gather his things, and run._ He was a part-time employee. Thank god! Besides, he collected enough information but lingered for more.

Greed truly gets one butchered.

* * *

"Ah-- Sorry! I mean…" The old pig stammered, face swollen red and soaked in his own sweat. Disgusting.

"It's my place, Kim. You don't need to cater to me. Off before my mood worsens." Wrinkled lines appeared on his forehead. He threw a contemptuous gaze at the blabber, followed by a short and sharp exhale. That was enough to send the ass licker off his trail. "Tch— I want to wine and sushi. In my room. No disturbance."

"Boss, you shouldn't have taken your anger on the poor manager. You know that, don't you?" Kunhang, his right-hand man and his brother for life hinted with a knowing smile. There were few people who could get away with messing with Wong Yukhei casually. Wong Kunhang happened to be one which Yukhei loathed with his heart. Goddamn it!

"I hired dogs. Not bitches." Yukhei snapped, gritting his teeth. 

There were blue veins visible on his temples and one must never approach a ferocious tiger. More likely a starved. Kunhang concluded, followed by youthful laughter. "Touche. Go rest up."

"Mhmn.. make the sauce spicier, or I'll personally butcher the chef." With that being said, Yukhei proceeded to climb the spiral staircase that led to the second floor —for VIP guests— and the third floor which existed for him and only him.

Yukhei had a hectic life with no reason to return to his house. He would drop by the place once or twice a week to have it cleaned, play his piano, watch TV, practice his culinary skills —knifemanship is important in booth cooking and dissecting humans— sleep, catch a movie. In short, a vacation from his gruesome life. But it changed when he caught Mark lee trespassing his house —albeit he allowed the means of trespassing out of curiosity.

One thing led to another and somehow he got tangled up with another human. A frail, tiny, vulnerable, helpless human no less. He himself couldn't grasp when those unexpected feelings grew on him —laughable and pathetic, if he must speak. He was an underworld lord for fuck's sake. He sells human commodities, drugs, arms, organs. Anything illegal and dirty, he had done and never felt an ounce of guilt.

Yet, here he was getting all sour and upset like a child denied off his favourite toy —he still refused to admit it even in his unconsciousness— throwing tantrums. Wong Yukhei felt the onslaught of heat on his skin. He wanted to shout, smash things, and send a search warrant.

Sure, Mark lee was a tiny, insignificant human, but to avoid him at all cost? What the fuck! And who's even helping him to keep such a low profile? 

_If I get my hands on you, I promise to God, you're gonna limp for the rest of your life, Mark._

"Oh—" Through the peripheral vision, he caught the flashing images of a familiar face scuttling through the crowd. "Oh—" it was definitely someone he knew. "Oh— fucking Mark Lee."

* * *

When Mark said he hated Lucas' inhumane cold gaze, despite getting extremely turned on, he meant every inch of it. The man had no sense of right and wrong, doing as he pleases. Even his considerations were hardly considerate at all.

Like being abducted in the middle of changing his clothes by a bunch of brawny goons who just barged in without a care for the damage. At first, Mark thought they had discovered him, and that he was done for. He was gearing up to fight —he knows martial arts— meanwhile sending an SOS to the person he loved and loathed. He even imagined all the despicable things his lord would put him through for rescuing his ass.

_Your ass is to my liking, Lee. Oh, the humiliation of being on fours like a cheap whore, ass up, and Lucas holding his, Mark's, camera up to capture shots after shots._

Though it was all for nought. He was drugged to unconsciousness. He caught the blurred image of one of the goons scolding the other for being too rough.

_Am I going to be sold?_

Turned out, it was his fucking SOS saviour who caused his panic and misery.

"You're awake."

Mark was still gasping for air. He woke up with a scream for help, and most embarrassingly shouted, "Lucas!Lucas!Lucas!" Only to blink his eyes to clarity, and find the man's name he so desperately shouted for in front of him with a devious grin to his handsome features. Mark was unbothered. Absolutely fine.

"Yes, I'm awake. As you can see I'm seeing you with my own eyes." Mark retaliated without any bite to his voice, cheeks puffed, and eyes slanted. His arms came up to wrap around him. Why was he cold? And it hit Mark.

Fuck!

His eyes flickered from Lucas —who was on the plush and undoubtedly expensive couch of velvet and dark brown mahogany wood— and then to his own state. He cringed. It made sense though. His lips pulled up, eye twitching. Why would he expect anything decent from a lewd pervert like Lucas?

Though Mark's internal monologue was cut short by Lucas' low and smooth and velvet voice. It was dangerous as well. Terrifying —the low growl of a starved wild feline circling its prey before final strike.

"Is my dick not enough to keep your hole tight, Mark?" Lucas frowned, biting the bottom tier of his lip. He sounded displeased —no— furious. And if Mark's senses were not playing tricks on him due to the earlier drug, there was stress mixed in somewhere. Fear, too. "That you needed to loosen it up by whoring in the club?" Maybe not fea— "Do you know how foolish that was?"

He fucking is scared. Shit.

As much as the idea of being Wong Yukhei's object of fear was satisfying, it brought no sovereign to Mark's part as the cause of it. If anything, he'd better be prepared to fight like a fucking mad dog for his freedom. Lucas had done this before. Another case, another few weeks of hiding with no phone calls, nor letters. The day Lucas found him was unforgettable. He had dragged Mark to his home —Lucas used to call it his house, but since the day Mark was a frequent visitor, he called it home. Mark wasn't sure what to feel besides a load of fucks— and kept him locked up. Needless to say, Mark took a week off from work until his ass felt better.

"I'm not a little child, Lucas. I know what I'm doing." Mark snarled, still on the floor since he woke up, and dizzy.

It wasn't fair. Lucas knew it wasn't. But here, they were arguing like dumb parent and child meeting. Mark smacked his lips, shaking head, and refusing to look at Lucas'. Which only meant foolishly glaring at the shiny leather shoes on Lucas' leg. Lucas sure kept his appearance no matter when and when. It was natural Mark felt underdressed —it was an understatement: he felt as naked and exposed as he could with the skimpy vest covering his chest and the shirt his dick— compared to Lucas'. Not to mention, Mark knew he would never look as gorgeous as the other.

* * *

"Oh—" Yukhei leaned against the couch, spreading his legs wider, as he regarded his captive with a meaningful gaze. His features hardened, jaw set in a frown, and gaze turned cold and colder. The next moment he spoke, he wasn't Lucas to Mark, but Wong of the underworld. "As my patron, the Jang deserves my protection. I wouldn't let a mole escape just because I'm a softie, am I?" 

He saw Mark pale even more. His mismatched doe eyes widening in horror. His lithe frame shaking. Rage? Disbelief? Fear? Or perhaps a mix of all, he wouldn't know. He wasn't interested in finding out. Yukhei was infuriated.

Here, he was being all irritated and worried over the boy he, begrudgingly, had come to find himself attached, and the said boy was going off on his own without a care, acting as if he was invisible to the dangers lurking in plain shadows.

"You must be wondering where are your things? Gone," He hummed, his arms spread on both sides of the sofa's armrest, fingertips dancing leisurely on it. "Probably in the dumpster and burnt to ashes. Now, now what to do with you, Mark Lee." He beckoned the other to come over.

 _Crawl_ , he meant. He held no playfulness in his features, demanding, and ruthless. It was the absolute power he held that made his enemies cower in fear, bow before him, and beg for mercy. Mark was getting a taste of it first hand. Not that he enjoyed his little kitten shivering in terror and not out of pleasure. Yukhei found the taste bitter.

"I—" Mark crawled to him and refused to look at him. Yukhei could guess the fat tears threatening to roll down Mark's cheeks. He could feel the slight shift in Mark's breathing, the numbness gripping the other's throat. It definitely had been the first time that Mark was subjected to the horror of Wong Yukhei.

"I didn't cut your tongue, Mark. How do you plan to pursue me not to cut you to pieces and pack you up to your office?" They both knew he wouldn't. But there were many other things he certainly could do, and would without a second guess, and ruin Mark's return to his work. The reason why Yukhei hadn't because Mark promised he wouldn't do something stupid.

Silence. Pin drop silence. Even Mark's breathing had been quiet.

Yukhei tapped his foot impatiently against the floor.

* * *

Mark's throat constricted. He sweated despite the air conditioner blowing waves of cold air and his lack of clothes.

It wasn't fear. It was his pride. Pride as a man and a journalist. Yukhei happened to love crushing it to dust then char it to fine particles, leaving nothing but waste to drain in the gutter.

So cruel. So fucking cruel.

"I…. I'm sorry," It was barely a whisper but he was certain Lucas could hear it. After all, Mark was practically up against Lucas's personal space. He had clambered up to Lucas lap, his hands braced on either side of the armrest, a knee wedged between Lucas' thighs, snuggled close where he knew Lucas liked it the best while he tucked his head in the crook of Lucas' neck.

If his only chance of getting away was the loss of his pride. Fuck it. He would tarnish it.

"Pardon. Come again." 

There went his pride as a man.

"I'm sorry. I was careless. I acted stupidly." Despite his earlier determination not to shed tears, Mark felt the moisture on his cheek running south. For a grown man to be scolded by a man of a crime, no less, was worth driving a sword through his own gut and to cut it out open.

Though he feared, Lucas would allow that. Mark had no faith in spiritualism, but he might for the sake of his peace in the afterlife.

"You didn't think you're getting off just with that flimsy apology, were you?" At least Lucas sounded amused, his calloused fingertips dancing across the sliver of skin peeked below the hem of Mark's vest at the back. They had a rhythm to them. One, Mark knew was a positive sign.

"I'm also sorry that I ignored you and your calls."

"Go on."

"That I got you worried."

"And—"

"That you had to jerk yourself off."

"Mark,"

"Sorry. I was foolish and didn't prioritise my safety."

"Good. Now, down kitten. Ass up."

"You mean the flo—"

"Yes. Did I say bed? No, right. Get down."

Mark couldn't believe he was going to be fucked on the floor like an animal. Albeit an expensive sparkling marble floor, but a floor nonetheless.

* * *

"You're so fucking mean." Yukhei heard Mark whine weakly, hitting at his bare chest. He didn't joke when he said he would ruin Mark. The boy's frame was marred with bruises; purple and deep red, and some still a fresh pink. Mark looked flushed and spent.

"You deserved it. Next time if you do anything stupid, I'm going to fuck you in a crowd. Maybe then you will stop being bold and brave. The trait of every hero in all fairytales. Mark, life is no miracle and good surprises."

"I know. I know...just—" He brought Mark firmly to his chest, suppressing whatever the other was about to say. Yukhei knew it would be another high morale useless in the real world. The struggles, the horrors, and pain. No god would come to save. Yukhei wasn't a God either.

"You better not disappear on me without prior notice. That doesn't mean, inform me and disappear again." Yukhei got no reply but the tiny squeeze around his waist said enough.

* * *

[twt uwu ](https://mobile.twitter.com/heillium)


End file.
